


our unending world

by BiblioMatsuri



Series: All the Happy Children [7]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, determined shiemi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiblioMatsuri/pseuds/BiblioMatsuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being alone is a choice. It hurts differently, knowing you have such good friends waiting for you. //Tea, memories, and solitude. Shiemi takes a break between classes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our unending world

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of an old tumblr [fic](http://bibliomatsuri.tumblr.com/post/108307151564/i-see-you-all-reflected-no-glorious-world) of mine, originally written in response to chapter 63. I vastly prefer this version, mostly because it actually could be Shiemi in this one. Fluffy healer girl needs more love (and proper characterization in fanfic).
> 
> This story was rewritten in light of everything up to chapter 70. I maintain that Shiemi forgives too easily.

You pour water into the bowl. It's steaming, hot and clear.

You think of Okumura-kun, who is your second-ever friend outside your small close family. He was the first to enter your garden. (Some young part of you will always think of it as your grandmother's garden, but you’ve learned that all the wishing in the world cannot bring her back. You need to save your strength for the living.)

The surface ripples as you sift out a careful scoop of powder, soft and green like moss. It’s comforting.

You think of Yuki-chan. He was your first friend. He came to your family's shop already a soldier-boy, hiding his fear with a sharp tongue and a face like an old blank mask. (You hadn't known it then. Had only seen a child your age, and would he want to play with you? He was so nice.)

You wrap one hand around the side of the bowl.

You think of the festival. For that one night, in that perfect-picture moment when you were all happy and everything was simple again. (Like it was on that day when Okumura-kun broke the gate. He and Yuki-chan dragged you out of your nursery, kicking and screaming. You were a lonely child who really believed that monsters would go away when she couldn't see them. It was like when Yuki-chan shot you, scared you. But it was all right. It was only paint, because he would never hurt you.)

You whisk the tea until it froths.

You think of dancing in a circle, and of holding hands. You’re thinking about children playing on a moonlit night.

You replace the whisk, checking everything over to make sure it’s all been put away nice and neat. This household skill was not something your grandmother taught you. Not as a lesson.

(She'd taught you how to walk through mud without slipping. How to pack the dirt around a new sapling so it would not fall. How to pack your tools away, so you could always find them when you needed them. 

It was Kaa-san who had taught you how to walk in sandals and wear kimono and hold a simple tea ceremony. You were a quiet and clumsy child, and that was something you _could_ do to make your mother smile.

You'd learned sewing and mending too, and how to pack a wound and make a poultice. You learned how to fix things, and you learned how to heal. Sometimes you wish it was simpler.)

You pour two cups and wait. 

(You wait to hear from Izumo-chan. She stood strong and brittle, and the Doctors took her away. And later, she was so happy, so happy it came out through her tears. You do wonder why, but you won't ask. You know how hard secrets are to hold on to.)

No one comes.

That's all right. You weren't expecting an answer, anyway.

You smile, even if it feels flat. That’s what people do to keep their friends from worrying about them. Even when, _especially_ when, there is no one to see. 

(Even if you’re not looking for any monster, it’s probably still waiting to strike.)

Even Shima-kun, who always smiled and harmed no-one, had not been what he seemed to be. His betrayal (or something very much like it, something like pansies) hadn't hurt you anywhere near as much as it hurt the people closest to him: Bon-san and Miwa-kun (who had been his first friends, almost like brothers, weren't they?) and Okumura-kun (who loves everyone who calls him _friend_ like burning) and possibly maybe Izumo-chan (who had been bait). 

You raise your cup-

(Still, the memories come back)

-you breathe in the steam-

(like white smoke like fire)

-and you drink.

(like sickness and weakness burning away, and you will never be able to repay them.)

You smile. It feels realer now.

Yes, you are in danger, but you have lived every day of your life surrounded by it. (Poppies possess such bright red blooms, but you've learned that wars were fought over those tiny seeds. Foxglove is beautiful, and is processed into digitalis, but too much medicine is poison. Lily-of-the-valley has tiny, delicate flowers and pale green leaves. You know that even the lightest touch can be fatal.)

You set the cup down. Then you spot the other cup and laugh a little into your hands.

Nii-chan is climbing over the edge of your grandmother's cup. It’s old. The glaze is dull, and there’s a big chip gone from the rim.

"Nii-chan?" 

The sound of your voice surprises you, softly wavering. Sometimes you feel like you’re still in that dark shed, your legs trapped numb and useless under you. You worked uselessly, endlessly, to save her precious garden. 

You adjust your weight, feeling a slight ache in your knees from sitting seiza for so long. You've never been very good at staying still.

"Do you want some tea?"

Nii-chan shifts a bit forward and stretches his little legs. (So cute! Like the first shoots and buds of the spring planting, trying to reach the sun.) He pausesover it, still and quiet, before shaking his head in a definite tiny _no_.

You smile, true and sad. 

You reach out a hand. Nii-chan climbs up and over your sleeve, wrinkling it and pulling the neckline out of place as he settles into his usual spot on your shoulder. Has he grown? Is his weight slightly greater now than it was, are his leaves slightly darker? Or is it only your own tiredness, the light outside fading, the room dimming.

You sigh. Your breath disturbs the tea in your cup, like a breeze stealing flowers and seeds so your garden's growth can spread.

You’ve lost the mood for tea. "I'm sorry, Obaa-chan. I wanted-" 

You choke on cold words. You don't remember what you'd wanted to do now, or why you had made tea the old way when you have no guests to entertain. You’re still concerned for Izumo-chan, but now _Yuki-chan_ -

You know you’re not as strong as you could be - but you’ve never been a burden, and you won’t start now. You know you’re not really done growing yet, but you can’t just be a child. Someday your power will be a fortress of branches to hide within. 

Today, you can do your best to heal your friends’ and comrades’ hurts. You will _not_ leave your friends to suffer alone. (You wish that they weren’t so stubborn. You wish that Yuki-chan would let you in.) Still, no one comes through the door. 

You haven’t believed that "no news is good news" since the day you found your grandmother dead.

You drink your tea. Across the table, your grandmother’s cup has cooled. You’ll wait a bit longer, just for a bit, and then you will drain the dregs. Then you’ll leave this empty room and go looking for your friends.

You’ll save everyone you can. That’s no wish, that’s a _promise_.


End file.
